


the essence of vulnerability

by MavenMorozova



Category: Loki - Fandom, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Loki: Where Mischief Lies, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asgard, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I suppose?, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, light fluff, touch-starved loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova
Summary: Loki met Sigyn at a feast one evening. Inexplicably, they were immediately drawn to each other. This is the beginning of their story.
Relationships: Loki/Sigyn
Kudos: 19





	the essence of vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> This fic draws from elements of the MCU, Agent of Asgard, Norse Mythology, & Loki: Where Mischief Lies. Sigyn’s characterization comes from the original mythology, as I’ve not read the comics with her! (yet.) Themes of her & Loki’s connection are touched on as soulmate-related, and her intense loyalty plays a factor in their relationship ‘drama.’ It’s also a happy ending, but there’s a little angst first!
> 
> Written for @fangirlsleep on tumblr for @worstloki's Loki Secret Santa. Love ya!

Before everything, before the raid on New York City, before Thor was banished to Midgard, before he knew his true heritage, Loki was only a little boy desperate for the praise of his father. As a toddler, he would totter around behind his older brother’s much more massive frame, grinning when Thor gave him scraps of his attention and only just remembering to keep his cool when Odin praised him, for once. It wasn’t Thor’s fault then—at least, Loki didn’t think so, now—for he had just been idolizing his father as Loki had, and had treated his younger brother accordingly.

When he was a teenager, strutting around in the 12-inch-high lace-up heels he had stolen from Amora’s wardrobe, he pretended that he was immune to criticism, immune to the way that he was beginning to be regarded in the eyes of the Asgardian people. The Trickster. Untrustworthy. The God of Mischief. The God of Lies.

But despite all that, he was vulnerable, deep on the inside. And it wasn’t until Sigyn came into his life many years later that he finally began to let it go, millimeter by painful millimeter.

He first saw her at one of Odin’s grandiose feasts, amusing herself in the corner with Sif, the two of them happily chatting away. Well, Sif looked more than slightly antsy, Loki had to admit, with her fingers tapping quickly on her basic plated armor and her lips twisted in an impatient expression. He chuckled to himself, noting how she always preferred action rather than idle chatter.

The other girl, however, was serene, her soft brown skin contrasting the dyed paleness of her long, frizzy hair, creating a glowing effect. The lanterns around the room caught on the highlights of her cheekbones, and Loki was immediately spellbound, his mouth falling open slightly as he watched her smile and laugh politely at a joke Sif had just made.

Finally, the young warrior managed to slip away, and Loki seized his opportunity, sliding into the seat Sif had just left behind. Adopting the easy confidence that the public usually saw him exude—so different from the momentary brain collapse he had just experienced when seeing this girl for the first time just minutes ago—Loki grinned. “Well, hello, darling.”

“My prince,” she replied with the cordiality he had expected. Her dark eyes flashed as she looked at him, then, almost as if she knew his secret. “Do you not have duties to attend to?”

Loki fought the urge to scoff rudely. “I have better things to do than greet party guests.” He winked at her, hoping that this would garner some reaction.

To his surprise, it did. The girl’s eyes crinkled as her lips turned up in an embarrassed smile. “You can’t mean me, my prince.”

“Oh, but I do,” he murmured in reply, reaching forward to caress her fingers. Outwardly, he was a perfect Asgardian gentleman. Inwardly, Loki was shouting at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t sure why he was so riled up, so intrigued by this girl—this  _ woman— _ but he continued smoothly as if he knew exactly what he was meant to do. “What is your name, my dear?”

“I am Lady Sigyn,” she replied softly, allowing him to bring her knuckles to his mouth and kiss them. Her own lips quirked as he did so, and Loki felt the same whooshing feeling he’d felt moments ago when he had been watching her converse with Sif. “A pleasure to meet you in person, Prince Loki.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Sigyn,” he said to her simply. “I do trust that you’ve enjoyed the feast so far?”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me you are going to use our entire evening together to make small talk.”

Loki sighed. “You’re right.” Standing abruptly from his chair, he offered his hand once more. “Shall we?”

***

The courtyard outside the great hall was quiet and dark, night stars giving soft light to the smooth stone pavement and reflecting on the tiny drooping leaves of the willows. It suited both Loki and Sigyn more than the bustling Asgardian roar inside the party, Loki thought. He could gladly spend days here in solitude without needing anything but himself. And perhaps, if he was lucky, Sigyn’s company.

“So, Prince Loki,” Sigyn began, once the happy shouts had died out behind them, and the only sounds left were the rustling of the leaves on the loose branches, “your reputation precedes you.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, otherwise expressionless. “Does it?”

Sigyn’s mouth slowly curled into a knowing smile, eyes brightening with a sparkle that made Loki’s heart catch. She tilted her head to the side, blinking slowly. Loki’s mouth parted. He couldn’t breathe. Slowly, Sigyn’s hand fell to his forearm, tickling him through the thin tunic that covered his skin. Loki smiled despite himself, covering her hand with his and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it.

“You are lovely, Lady Sigyn,” he murmured to her softly.

She stepped closer. “What mischief are you here for this time, Trickster?”

The nickname both sent a flood of affection through him, strangely enough, and brought him back to the whispers of the Asgardians. They feared him, but  _ Sigyn? _ Her voice held a soft murmur of trust inlaid with the tones of song it inflected, and the expression on her countenance was nothing less than unadulterated faith.

“I—” his voice died on his lips, and Loki swallowed. No one had ever been able to do this to him before, to steal his so-called ‘ _ silver tongue’ _ right from his mouth. And he had just met Sigyn, who he was sure would one day become a goddess, and she had done what everyone had only dreamt of doing. She had left him utterly speechless.

Sigyn smiled knowingly at his stunned silence, brushing aside a lock of his wavy black hair from his shoulders and twirling it in her fingers. “I hope I am not too forward, my prince.”

“Not at all,” he replied, the sounds rushing out in one breath.

“Good.” She looked rather embarrassed despite herself, dark skin hiding a blush as she turned her head down. Loki could still feel her smile as she stepped even closer, the caress of her fingers on his hair trailing down to his shoulders, where heavy plates of ceremonial armor encapsulated his limbs, making his physique appear more impressive.

“So this is new to you?” he murmured as she leaned into him, the two of them beginning to sway to the music that had long faded from their ears. It was imaginary, of course, and for a moment, Loki was sure that this was imaginary, too, for Odin was constantly berating him about his ‘princely duties’ and comparing him to Thor. This wouldn’t give him any points, he was sure. But he didn’t really care.

Sigyn looked up at him, the starlight lighting the sparks in her dark eyes. “Am I that obvious?”

Loki grinned at her, shaking his head. “I hope not to make fun of you, my lady.”

“I’m afraid you have failed at that, your highness.”

“Please,” he said. “Just Loki.”

Sigyn nodded her head respectfully. “If you say.” But she couldn’t hold her straight face for long, and soon she descended into quiet laughter, laying her head on Loki’s shoulder. Surprised, he stiffened, unsure of what to do.

It wasn’t that he was new to the sensation. No, Loki had gone much further than this, with many men and women. He wasn’t untouched. He wasn’t a virgin.

And though it may have felt cliché to admit it to himself, Sigyn made him feel as if everything was new again.

They talked for at least an hour, and Loki thanked the rest of the pantheon that Sif had most likely kept Thor and the others busy, so they would not come looking for them. He learned of Sigyn’s arts, her proficiency at music and the composition of her own songs, her hopes to one day play professionally. Unfortunately, it was not befitting of someone of her status to do such a thing, only as a side hobby.

Deeper and deeper they went into the garden, crossing the grand bridge from Valhalla’s courtyard to the lair of Frigga’s wilder plants, lush greenery sprouting uncontained around them.

“Have I known you before?” he asked her, voice hoarse as he turned his head to look at her. “In a dream, Lady Sigyn?”

“If I am to call you Loki, your highness, you must treat me with the same regard.”

He fixed her with a mock-stern glare.  _ “If you say.” _

Her eyebrows shot up; he had just nearly perfectly mimicked her exact tone as she had said the same words to him. Using her surprise to his advantage, he pressed his lips to the high rise of her cheekbone, fingers inserting themselves under her round face to lift her chin. “And this is how I leave  _ you  _ speechless.”

He could feel her breath catching. “And now Silvertongue has stepped forward at last,” she murmured, voice shaky, though still smiling.

“Indeed.” But it was false arrogance. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her or quell the pounding of his heart. It was such a foreign feeling, to have this reaction to something positive for once, and not the palpitating fear of an oncoming torrent of lectures from Odin about why Thor was right and he, Loki, was wrong. But Sigyn was something else, a whole entirety of a realm he had yet to explore.

Slowly, he took her head in his hands, admiring the way that her hair fluffed out around it. “As many people as I have met in this life,” Loki whispered, “I have never seen one as beautiful as you.”

Those were the last words emitted from his mouth before he kissed her, lips locking with hers effortlessly, a slight turn of his head, and a hand on the small of her back.

Sigyn was good at kissing, he realized, not only endowed with blessed plush lips but a skillful tongue, and when her eyes finally opened to meet his, and they pulled apart reluctantly, she looked embarrassed for it to be so.

“My dear,” Loki whispered. “That was amazing.”

“Shall we do it again?” There was a challenge in her question.

Loki didn’t answer her, instead leaning into her calling touch once more. The kiss went deeper this time, and he found himself pressing closer to her, hands traveling from her back and the side of her cheek to slide down her figure and onto her hips. Sigyn moaned into the kiss, her own hands entangling in his black hair where it spilled out from under his headdress of large golden horns.

Soon enough, he found that they had managed to lodge themself awkwardly onto one of the courtyard’s hidden benches, the stone of it strewn with fallen cherry blossoms. “Sigyn,” he pleaded, kissing her forehead, her nose, each of her blessed eyelids. “How have you bewitched me in such a short few moments?”

“Perhaps it was meant to be,” she replied back simply, straddling him on the stone bench. A cherry blossom had fallen onto her nearly-white hair, trapped in its tight curls. Loki adjusted it gently, breathing hard. He willed himself to stay calm, to not bring his body too far.

It was hard to do so when she moved on top of him, eyes closed in bliss as she embraced him and pushed him back flat so that he was staring up at the night sky. “I have no idea why,” Sigyn said, “but I have complete and utter trust in you.” She shook her head, laughing to herself. “I find myself at a loss to my body’s own will.”

“Your  _ body’s?” _ he quipped, mischief apparent in his tone. “My dear, what would Asgard dare say if we were found without any excuse for why we are so entangled?”

He felt her face heat up against the palm of his hand. “That’s—that’s not exactly what I had meant,” she admitted. “Though your assertion is also true.” The admittance was made with a downturn of her eyes, a smile gracing that luscious mouth. “But no—I just cannot believe how vulnerable I am letting myself be. Physically. Emotionally.”

He stared at her, a slight nod of his head willing her to continue to speak.

Sigyn sighed. “My mother has set me on track to become the Goddess of Victory,” she murmured quietly. “And it’s not that I do not wish for the honor, simply that I feel I am not prepared. Or the right person to represent that honor. Victory comes with a clanging of bells, the shouts of warriors in a celebratory feast, bright decorations and a sense of fulfillment.”

“And?” Loki asked her gently.

Her lips twitch unpleasedly. “Can you not already tell that I am none of those things? I am quiet, and though I make strong bonds and can talk for hours, it takes a toll on my system. I stay on the sidelines, and I have shied away from those warriors’ feasts. I only came to this one because of my mother’s pleading. It was becoming unbearable.”

Loki chuckled. “I know the feeling. You must know that I only attend because I am the prince, yes?”

Sigyn nodded, the smile returning to her face. Loki kissed her chastely. “But you are perfect for the role of Goddess of Victory, darling,” he said once he’d pulled away. “If you were boisterous like my brother, you would be far too fiery. Things could go sour. But _ you— _ you are humble and kind and wise. I can already tell. And so it suits you.”

“Thank you,” Sigyn said after a moment, voice soft, making his heart melt for what felt like the millionth time, and Loki couldn’t help but lift her from where she sat on his lap, carrying her bridal style onto the grass and laying down next to her. He planted soft kisses on her jaw and neck, traveling down to her collarbone with slight hesitance, each movement waiting for her approval.

“Wait,” she said when he moved to slip a sleeve off of her shoulder.

Loki immediately sat back, heart pounding in his chest. Had he hurt her?

Seeing his expression, she took his hand in hers, running a thumb along the back of it gently. “It’s not that,” she told him. “I just...I’ve opened up so much to you. And you so little to me.” She sounded embarrassed even as she admitted it.

Loki grimaced. “I—I’m sorry. That was terrible of me.”

She met his gaze, raising her eyebrows. “Well?”

“I can’t...right now,” Loki admitted with a sigh.

Sigyn pursed her lips. “I trust myself to you, and you pull my footing out from under me, and then you leave me alone in this way?” She didn’t mean physically, he knew, but that she had exposed herself emotionally to him, and he was not doing the same. “It’s no wonder they call you the Trickster.”

Eyeing his signature green tunic with disdain— _ green, _ the color that had recently become fashionable to associate with lies and deceit—Sigyn let out a sigh. “I should have not expected more.”

Something burned in Loki’s chest as she stood and walked away, but he did not follow her. He felt terrible for having unintentionally hurt her, and the feeling threatened to consume him, to swallow him. _ Shame. _

***

It was weeks before Loki saw Sigyn again, though it felt like years. He was centuries old, but the feeling that irked him over the time as it passed made him feel like he was a child again, or a Midgardian. He supposed that to be one was to be the other.

She was a little less polished this time, her bleached frizz of hair pulled into tight braids that lined her head and came together in an elaborate bun in the back. Though she wore a simple gown, dark red and sleeveless, she was still stunning, long lashes lowering in the expected cordiality as Loki and Thor passed. She was the daughter in the court, and he was the prince.

That was...the only thing it was. And it was Loki’s fault that the cards had fallen in such a way. He felt terrible, and Sigyn had been completely right. He  _ did  _ hold every emotion and memory tucked away in a part of his heart even  _ he  _ didn’t want to access. Who would want to open themself to someone like that?

So when he saw her this time, he couldn’t make eye contact with her, instead focusing his gaze straight ahead. The helmet that caressed the sharp slope of his cheeks certainly helped; his peripheral vision was well-hidden.

Still, Loki could acutely feel the turmoil radiating from her as they nearly brushed in the hall. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand. And then the moment was gone.

“Brother, are you well?” Thor asked, pulling Loki from his reverie. Loki started, flinching with near violence. “What?” he asked.

“I asked if you were well,” Thor repeated, sounding bewildered. “You seem distracted. And angry. Who has wronged you?”

_ A great many people had wronged him, in fact.  _ But Loki was not about to begin an argument. He didn’t quite have the energy for it. So he simply sighed. “I’m only fraught with myself, brother.”

Thor nodded, lip jutting out as he thought. “Well, don’t hesitate to talk to me about it.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, and he meant it. “I might.” He wouldn’t, though. It was not something that Thor would understand, because his brother did not know that he was in fact part of the problem. Sure, Odin was the root of the poison, the poison that Loki clinged to as if it was water and he was a parched man emerging from the desert. But Thor was favored, the golden child in every sense of the world. Loki would be naive not to recognize that. His brother did not have the same world as he.

And so, he smiled, wishing that he could change things.

“If you need some time alone, be on your way, brother,” Thor told him, a large hand falling heavy on Loki’s shoulder. “I can report on the mission without you.”

“But—” Loki began to protest, feeling himself grasping at strings that were being pulled from his lithe fingers. He needed to prove that he was competent—perhaps, this time, Odin would understand how essential Loki was—

“Take some time off. You work too hard,” Thor interrupted, and the last strands were yanked away.

There would be other opportunities. Hopefully.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again, removed Thor’s large hand from his shoulder with a begrudging smile, and pivoted. Fine, then.

Sigyn was waiting for him when he returned. She hadn’t left the spot in the corridor where they had almost touched, and her eyes were still filled to the brim with that flinty glare. It was...intoxicating. Even though she was mad at him, Loki wanted more of it, that expression of steel, he wanted her close to him and those eyes right in front of his, on  _ top  _ of him…

Shaking his head, Loki cleared his throat and gave her his best dazzling grin.

Sigyn stared back at him, unimpressed.

He was silent for a moment more. Then— “Can we talk?”

Sigyn nodded, turned, and led him down the hall. To his surprise, she held out her hand, and he took it gladly, following her. She squeezed his hand, and he felt the ice—or warmth, perhaps?—inside of him melt further.  _ He was so lonely. _ Thor’s boisterous shoves and Frigga’s light brushes sometimes weren’t enough.

They reached an empty room of the palace. Loki shut the door behind him quietly, but as soon as he turned, Sigyn was upon him, pressing him to the wall with a finger on his lips. “I don’t care if or when you will open your soul to me,” she whispered, want overflowing from her words. “I need you, Loki. It was only one evening we spent together and yet I cannot imagine myself as anything but devoted to you.”

Loki’s eyes burned. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as her head tucked itself under the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much, my dearest Sigyn.” Her name came out as little more than a breath on his lips, the sound of it reverent. He said it again: “Sigyn,  _ Sigyn.” _

“You don’t have to tell me anything about your pain right now,” she told him, and pressed her lips to his. “But please, when you are ready…”

“I will.” The admittance was overwhelming. He couldn’t bare himself to her all at once, but he would over time.

Eventually, Sigyn would know about Odin’s high expectations of him, the ever-present competition between him and Thor, the question of who was to obtain the throne. Loki fully expected that Thor would be the one, but he didn’t understand why he was still expected to play along. And yet, like a foolish peasant searching for the end of a rainbow, he did.

Eventually, Sigyn would know about the way his magic sometimes consumed him, making it impossible to breathe, the way it sparked from his chest and bled into his brain. He wanted to hide from it, wherever he could, and yet he wanted it more than anything; it was the only thing that made him special. It was his lifeline, and his connection to his mother. But it was oh, so  _ complicated. _

Eventually, Sigyn would know about the future Odin had seen for him in the God’s Eye Mirror, the terrible end of Asgard and the infinite ways in which it would come to pass, each borne of his hand. No matter what Loki had done to stop it in the past, was doing now, and would do in the future.

That. That was what scared him above all.

But for now, he didn’t tell her of any of it. She trusted him, and he was infinitely thankful for it. _ No one  _ had ever trusted him, and her loyalty was unparalleled. He whispered that in her ear, his thankfulness, voice shaky as she kissed his neck.

When their gazes met again, sharp green meeting almost pitch-black, Loki could have cried. “Sigyn…”

“You thank me?” she asked sardonically. “I didn’t know.” He had told her at least five times now.

Despite himself, Loki smiled. “Yes,” he said. “And I will tell you everything. One day, I promise, my love.”

“Love?” she echoed.

“Love,” said Loki, sure of himself as the word laid itself comfortably on his tongue. “We are new to each other, yes, but still...I can tell that you and I are meant for each other.”

Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Loki didn’t know, but he kissed her anyway, soft and slow and savoring every moment of it. And at the end of it, with her soft breaths on his skin, fingers ghosting along his face under the plating of his helmet, and trust radiating from her spirit through the air like its own type of magic, maybe he did.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's that! certainly one of my favorite one shots that I've ever written <3 i was recently introduced to logyn and i really love them!!
> 
> I've only written one other loki fic, that's a loki x reader fluffy-but-explicit (also pre-canon) au called "May I Feel" if you're interested!
> 
> merry Christmas everyone!!!!


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